A Credit for Your Thoughts
by VaryaGG
Summary: When pots and kettles can build a bridge across the universe to call each other black, how can it be so hard to admit a single, simple truth? Reylo, I think. One-shot.


_A Credit for Your Thoughts_

* * *

When pots and kettles can build a bridge across the universe to call each other black, how can it be so hard to admit a single, simple truth?

* * *

She floated just above a vast ocean, calm and serene, peaceful and inspiring. Above, the stars illuminated the sky, tangled in their web of light that breathed life into the entire universe. The stars drew their light from the infinite sheet of water beneath her, respectful of the great gift the ocean provided, respectful of its power. Whether that was a conscious effort mattered little to the ocean, for it provided the light to its stars, its children, with peerless compassion and generosity. Most stars cast but a tiny speck of light upon her, though never insignificant; she was so accustomed to seeing each and every one of the stars that she could tell when one died, when a light fizzled out. It rarely hurt when one did, though, for they were quickly replaced by another star, locked in their endless cycle of light and darkness, a precarious balance.

Some stars were different, though. Their light was not gentle or subtle. They were warm as the hottest days in the long summers on Jakku, but never as unpleasant. Their embrace felt not as smothering, not as suffocating as the unforgiving desert heat. Those stars had names, faces, some of them she knew, and some of them she hoped to one day get to meet. They were living, breathing manifestations of the ocean's power, its champions.

They were Force-sensitives, able to tap into the pool of energy that connected the entire galaxy.

She could see General Organa, a shining beacon of hope and authority. She could see Finn and Poe, little sparks of fire that burst with power every so often, though not strong enough to maintain a stable connection. She saw Rose, the little flare of courage, and herself at the center as a giant supernova of all things that kept her alive so far. Perseverance. Belief. Willpower. Unkar Plutt did always say that she was too stubborn to die, for what it was worth. She chose not to think about how much of that was luck, and how much of it was some cosmic superpower she didn't know she had so much control over. She could even feel the aftershock of others, like Master Luke, Han, and countless echoes from an age long past.

Of course, there was also that other power. That void just beneath the surface, unseen but therefore ever so tempting to dive into. It whispered to her, promised her power beyond her wildest dreams. The power to overcome even death, it promised, if only… Her natural curiosity made her want to answer that call, and she would have if she hadn't seen how much pain, destruction and terror it had caused. The Dark Side of the Force, the polar opposite of the Light, _her_ Light. At first, she tried to banish it, to force her Light through the barrier and illuminate the darkness. But the harder she pushed, the more she found it pushing back, becoming harder and harder to resist.

But she wouldn't become like _him_. She wouldn't let herself follow him on a path he didn't even set out for himself.

She could sense him, too, on the other side, just below the surface. Forever on the shadow side of the Force, as the glimpses she caught of Ben Solo's face became less frequent the more clearly she taught herself to see the universe through her special bond with it. More often than not it was Ben Solo's alter ego, lurking, stalking, preying on a moment of weakness, until he could lash out with his dark tentacles and drag her into his black abyss like a ravenous Sarlacc. For the briefest of moments, she imagined the mask of Kylo Ren rising from the sands, surrounded by flailing tentacles.

It was as amusing as it was terrifying, and enough to break her concentration.

Rey lost her balance and grunted when her tailbone connected with the cold metal floor of the _Falcon._ She lost her ability to breathe for a terrifying moment; waves of crippling pain kept her writhing on the ground, tears springing to her eyes. She cursed to herself in an alien language — scavengers on Jakku picked up a surprisingly colorful vocabulary over the years — before forcing herself to sit up, elbows resting on her knees. Sweat soaked her brow, running along the line of her jaw and dripping on the metal beneath her. Her head pounded with a nagging ache she had never felt before, as if someone had pelted the inside of her skull with pebbles while she was meditating, though she wouldn't know why anyone would do such a thing.

This was the seventh time in seven attempts that Kylo Ren had been responsible for disturbing her connection with the universe, she thought, frustrated with her nemesis while smiling a halfhearted smile at the engineer who came to check up on her. According to the Duros whose name she couldn't remember, she had been levitating at least three feet in the air before dropping, which explained the searing pain that made her entire body feel stiff and tense. Or was it the pain? As soon as she paid mind to it, it seemed to vanish, as if it were afraid of her attention, as if it didn't want to be felt. Or perhaps someone else had felt it and was mending it through the use of the Force.

Snoke was dead. This shouldn't be happening anymore. Their connection should've been severed, but it only seemed to become stronger since the last time she had been in his close proximity on Crait.

He had startled her the first time. She'd opened the old Jedi texts she had 'borrowed' from the temple on Ahch-To, studying the classical lightsaber forms and practicing them with her staff — it hadn't been ideal, but it was something. Her frustration with her nemesis and what he had done to the more elegant, refined weapon had opened the connection, and suddenly he was in front of her while she swung her staff at his temple. To this day she swore that she felt the attack connect, but he was gone as quickly as he came. If she had hit him, she doubted that he would let anything on. He was too damn _proud_ for that. Though he had been wearing that hideous mask he fancied so much the second time — she liked to think that it hadn't been a coincidence.

Neither of them seemed to know how their bond worked, and to what extent they could manipulate it. Which didn't stop him from heckling her poor form the second time he appeared before her. _You're wide open. Your footwork is pathetic. I can see your attacks coming from a mile away. You'd be dead in seconds if you tried that against me._ Rey had done an admirable job at ignoring him, until he went for the low blow. She had banned his exact words from her memory, but it was enough to make her lash out in vicious anger, bending the Force to her will and disgracing Master Luke's inheritance. Kylo Ren vanished within moments, though not before choking on his own breath for a terrifying, glorious second. Guilt wracked her brain for days after that; not because she had done what she had done, but because she had felt so _good_ about it.

Which was how Rey ended up meditating. An hour at first, then two hours, and more and more. Sometimes an entire day would fly by while she explored the ocean, the lights that guided her along her path. She tried to decipher the voices that echoed through the void like magic, the wise teachings of the many Jedi that came before Luke, before Obi-Wan Kenobi and Yoda. It was… peaceful, if not a tad boring, sometimes. She began to grasp what Master Luke meant when he said a Jedi was a stranger to attachments, yet held compassion for others. How could one not admire the countless different life forms, their intricacies, their strengths? How could one desire death and destruction?

As if awoken by her throwaway thought, the pull to the darkness reared its head again. And there he was in her mind's eye, with his menacing helmet and his jagged saber. It was as if thoughts of him woke the Dark Side, and the Dark Side manifested itself as thoughts of him. How was she to escape a vicious cycle like that, if even meditation was failing her? _This is Bantha shite,_ she thought as her fist clenched and banged on her own knee in frustration.

"Yes it is, but I assume you have more important things to say if you insist on your attempts to draw me here."

Rey felt his presence moments before he spoke. He was here, right in front of her, and yet he wasn't. Not really. She opened her eyes and cast her best attempt at a fierce glare in the direction of his voice. Kylo Ren was sitting on a cot at the other end of the room, his back pressed against the wall. He was dressed in a black shirt with long sleeves that fit his form to perfection, and black trousers. He wore no boots or gloves, no protective layers of robes that indicated his status as Supreme Leader of the First Order. His mask and crude, unstable lightsaber were nowhere in sight.

He was alone, in his quarters, and a large deal more comfortable in his surroundings than she was in hers. Which was odd, considering the lingering feelings of isolation and abandonment she felt from him, while she was surrounded by friends and people that looked up to her, cared for her. Sure, she was in pain, or had been just now, but she felt at home among the people of the Resistance. Rey smirked. He could try hiding it all he wanted; in the end, his thoughts were hers, just as hers were his. It would've been such a special phenomenon, if he hadn't been, well, _him._

 _What's that supposed to mean, Scavenger?_

She shot his… apparition? Was it fair to call it that? His _image_ a withering glare before turning her attention to the Duros engineer whistling a tune while working on some salvaged parts from dismantled service droids. With great effort she ignored her self-loathing as she implanted an urgent command into his mind to go clean the engine bay, which the man promptly got up to do. Pain stung at her brain like a blaster bolt and she hissed, but she took it in stride; she deserved that. Kylo raised an eyebrow, non-verbally questioning her from his comfortable position against the wall.

"Meditation gave me a headache," explained the scavenger once her ally had left and sealed the door behind him. "It gets worse when I have you poking around in my thoughts. This is easier — oh, don't give me that look! You have no right to judge me."

"Me? I'm surprised if anything. No, I'm just channeling Skywalker's disappointment in his star pupil." His tone was somewhere in between amused and mocking. Only Luke's name was spoken with a rare venom born from years of resentment. She wondered if Kylo knew the truth about what happened that night, as Luke had told it. Then again, would it even change anything?

Rey breathed to steady the ringing in her head before attempting another smirk, that turned out more like a painful wince. "You would know how that feels, having turned to the Dark Side and all that."

Why was she trading banter with Kylo Ren? Hadn't he been dead set on destroying everything she stood for and cared about in this galaxy? Granted, it was better than arguing, but still. It felt unnatural to be so calm around her worst enemy, even if he wasn't _really_ here. The Force could do many things, but even its mind-boggling power had limitations. Bridging the minds of two people on the opposite side of… pretty much _everything_ except their species, though, that was no problem. Of course.

Kylo knew better than to push her. She was no Jedi, and he still remembered the last time she lashed out in anger at him. Explaining to Hux and Phasma why he checked into the medical bay with a bleeding bump on the side of his head hadn't been his idea of a fun distraction from conquering the galaxy. Not that he was mad at her for it. Sure, it had put him in a humiliating predicament, but it also proved his theory that the Dark had a firm hold on her. That she was not immune to its call, that there was a chance to seduce her from her path. If only she weren't so stubborn.

 _Hello pot, this is kettle. Anyone ever tell you black is a horrible color on you?_

"Get out of my head."

Once again, he sounded more amused than annoyed, his voice lacking the vicious bite she had come to associate with him. Rey smirked. "That's my line." She knew the dangers of allowing herself to relax around her mortal enemy, but there was something about him that put her at ease. She actually kind of liked this version of Kylo. When he wasn't the angry, hateful, mass-murdering evil overlord. When he was Ben Solo, the curious and sensitive prodigy, eager to learn more about the Force and all its mysteries, carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

"Something's bothering you." No one could ever say he wasn't observant, though their Force bond did give him an unfair edge in that regard. Rey deflated and averted her gaze. She didn't want to give him more leverage to sway her from the Light, no matter how confident she felt in its serene embrace. Kylo Ren was nothing if not persistent, and letting him in on her insecurities would make him double his efforts to show her the path to the Dark Side. Perhaps that was why he remained so adamant that the Dark was his best option; perhaps he felt the same, and lying to himself was his only way of making himself feel safe. Perhaps the fear she sensed in him was the fear of being proven wrong, and all the guilt that would come with that.

 _A credit for your thoughts?_

Rey became aware of the silence that lingered between them, thanks in no small part to Kylo gently prodding her mind with the Force. She was surprised by his restraint, his respect for her privacy, considering how easy it would be for him to pierce her thoughts and discover her insecurities. He was almost human like this. Decent. Patient. Compassionate. And that was terrifying, because it was all too easy to fall into the trap of trusting him when he was like that. But she hadn't forgotten what happened last time she chose to trust him.

A sigh escaped her, followed by a look in his direction she wasn't quite sure of what it conveyed. His gaze was trained on an object beyond her field of view, but she could feel the gentle tug of his mind on the Force. He was toying with something, making it levitate, like a restless child throwing a ball against the wall and catching it. She still admired the ease with which he could manipulate the Force, as it seemed to barely take any conscious effort for him; his thoughts were very loud and very chaotic, laced with every emotion she'd come to associate with him. Anger. Pain. Loss. Loneliness. And still he could make whatever he was playing with, float and twirl and bend to his will. And she hated that she admired him for it.

Kylo raised an eyebrow and met her gaze.

She sighed again. "I don't want to do this, Ben." He frowned at her use of the name his parents gave him, but remained silent. "This charade of ours, it's pointless. Neither of us is going to give in. We've already established we're both too stubborn, too _afraid_ to admit that the other could be onto something, and not being horrible to each other for once isn't going to change that. So just… stop. Don't pretend that you care."

To her surprise, the projection of Kylo Ren smiled, but it was a sad, pathetic smile that almost made her pity him. And he vanished, but not before leaving her with a parting gift that was more trouble than a thousand mocking comments on her lightsaber form.

"Who ever said anything about pretending?"


End file.
